Page 742 of Filthy Elites

“Mom, why would I lie?”

She says nothing.

I grind my teeth. This isn't the first time my mom hasn't believed me. She thinks I have an overactive imagination, but the truth is, she just doesn't like to face facts. My mom would rather go through life thinking the best of people even when they're demons masquerading as men.

Masquerading as her husband and my father.

“Well, have you met your roommate yet?” she asks, her tone a bit stiff. She’s trying to get off the phone now, and I should let her.

“Yeah, she’s great. I think we’re going to get along really well.”

“That’s wonderful, honey.”

There’s a pause, but before I can suggest that I get back to packing, she says something that has me groaning inwardly.

“You should head over to the police and introduce yourself. Make sure they know your name. Bring them doughnuts. They’ll appreciate that, and then if anything should happen, if you need them, they’ll be willing to bend over backward to help you. But only if you truly need them. Not any of that… attention-seeking stuff.”

I say nothing because how can I respond to that?

“Maybe you can continue doing yoga,” she says brightly.

She thinks yoga helps me. Honestly, I tried it to help battle some of my demons. Did it help any? Nope, but my mom thinks otherwise. Truth be told, that’s only because I stopped sharing with her some of the shit I have to deal with on the regular.

“Mom,” I say firmly, “you don’t have to worry. Everything will be fine.”

“I wish you would’ve picked a college closer to home.”

Fat chance of that. I hate that house. It has way too many terrible memories. Mom just doesn’t like to be in the mansion all by herself now that Father’s dead.

I clear my throat. “I’m fine.”

“Fine is one of those bullshit words,” she says.

I roll my eyes. She’s allowed to curse, but I’m not. Fuck that.

“You can say you’re fine until you’re blue in the face, but I won’t believe you.”

Yeah, because she never believes a word I say.

I blow out a breath. “I’m going to start taking karate classes,” I blurt out, thinking about the flyer I saw earlier. “That way, I won’t have to butter up and fatten up the cops. I mean, if they have to chase down a guy, we don’t want them to be overweight, right?”

I wince and look toward the door, but Dawn hasn't returned yet. So she's packing a few extra pounds. That happens to me every year between November and December, thanks to the holidays. I always have to devote January and February to getting those pounds off.

“Karate?” Mom sounds skeptical. “I don’t know about that. You might get hurt.”

"The point is to learn self-defense, so I won't get hurt."

“Well, maybe try a lesson or two. See how it goes, and if it’s not for you, there’s no harm in quitting.”

“Geez, thanks, Mom. I didn’t realize that you wanted me to fail.”

“It’s not failing if you quit something you aren’t good at.”

Ouch. Fuck me, but she really knows how to cut you to the quick. Nothing I ever do is good enough for her, but then she’s hated me ever since I tried to tell her the truth about Father.

“I need to finish unpacking.”

And I hang up before she can say another word.

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